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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792138">The Battle of the Yuris</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_skates_reads/pseuds/Sophie_skates_reads'>Sophie_skates_reads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ALL the Tonya Harding References, Competitie Yuri Pliestsky, Getting Together, Gift Fic, M/M, calm down, for Otayuri, idk what to tag this, silliness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:14:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25792138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_skates_reads/pseuds/Sophie_skates_reads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the media creates a Yuri rivalry, Yuri wants to know who the better Yuri <i> actually </i> is. Sue him. Silliness and competitions ensue.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Or: this is an utter mess that I really enjoyed XD</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri &amp; Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin &amp; Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Battle of the Yuris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venom_for_free/gifts">venom_for_free</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so, on one of my other stories, <i>Instagram: Featuring Zorbs and Hobbits,</i> my friend Venom and I joked that Yuri would end up pulling a Tonya Harding on Yuuri in deciding who was the better Yuri. “Battle of the Yuris” was how we phrased it. So yeah, for you, Venom! </p><p>Did I use this to procrastinate working on <i>Shattering Glass</i> and decide to post it to make up for <i> Rearranged</i> getting too long and taking forever to write? Yes. Am I slightly unhappy with how this turned out? Also yes. Is this a three am crack plot? *Yes*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Medal after medal, gold after gold, win after win by a fraction of a point; for the past year and a half, Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki have been alternating between gold and silver at every competition they attended, losing only to each other. The media loved it: every sports news outlet reported their ‘rivalry’, playing up the drama of what they had deemed ‘the podium family’ to the viewers. Every time they saw the skaters -- at competitions, when they stalked their rink during practice, on TV interviews -- they asked them about the rivalry, and, again and again, the skaters had to reiterate that <i>there was no rivalry.</i></p><p>After almost two seasons of this, and with the Olympic season looming over them, Yuri was sick and tired of this ridiculous rivalry business. If they wanted to find out who was the better Yuri, fine; he’d give them what they wanted. But there was only one way to do it.</p><p>The Battle of the Yuris.</p><p>***</p><p>Unbeknownst to half of the competition, Yuri composed a series of challenges by which they would settle once and for all who was the better skater. The obvious test, seeing who skated the same program better, was eliminated right off of the bat. Yuri had grown almost six centimeters during the first two months of the off-season and anything involving balance or jumps was completely out of the question. </p><p>(In truth, he was beyond infuriated with this, especially since <i>it was Olympic fucking season! You have to be fucking kidding me! Why do I have to grow NOW?!</i> And the indication that he’d end up towering over both Victor and Otabek at what his doctor expected to be 188 centimeters was no consolation. His body was betraying him at the worst time and he thought the fact that it was ruining his first Olympic season was quite enough: it didn’t need to tamper with the Yuri competition, too.)</p><p>So, writing off anything on the ice, Yuri looked to their off-ice training regimen for ideas, which was where he found the first challenge.</p><p>“Oi, Katsudon!” Yuuri looked up from where he was pulling his water bottle out of his gym bag, seeing Yuri waving to him from near the treadmills. “Come run with me.”</p><p>Yuuri quirked an eyebrow; it wasn’t unusual for Yuri to want some company while training, but the boy would never openly admit to enjoying it-- let alone ask for it.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, secretly pleased that Yuri seemed to be warming up to him, and made his way over to the vacant treadmill next to Yuri’s.</p><p>Immediately, Yuri began running, jacking the speed up as high as it could go and sneering at Yuuri when he stumbled over his feet to get started.</p><p>“Come on, Katsudon,” he smirked, his breath barely hindered by the breakneck speed he was pelting along to. “Gotta get back in shape for the season!” </p><p>Yuuri rolled his eyes; he’d grown used to Yuri’s now almost routine jabs at his weight. It was the off-season, he was allowed to gain a few pounds. Still, though, his time training with the Russian teen had helped him embrace his competitive side and he simply pushed up the speed on his treadmill until it was maxed out like Yuri’s was.</p><p>They ran for a while, long enough for both men to find themselves gasping for breath, pouring with sweat. To Yuuri’s surprise, though, Yuri showed no indication of stopping even when he was red-faced and puffing, sweat pooling on his forehead. Yuuri, likewise, was in a bad condition, but, impressed and motivated by Yuri’s determination, continued to match his pace. </p><p>It was only when another fifteen minutes (though it felt like fifteen <i> years)</i> had passed that Yuuri finally had exhausted his endless supply of stamina, and, slowing his machine, hopped from the treadmill and sat to down his water bottle.</p><p>“Finally!” A breathy shout went up from the treadmill where Yuri still ran, and the teen looked positively exhausted but grinned anyway. “Yes! Haha, Katsudon, I wi--” And, apparently forgetting that he was still on the treadmill, Yuuri watched as Yuri fist-pumped, stopped running, and promptly went flying from the machine, tumbling over himself to land in a heap on the ground against the wall.</p><p>“Yuri!” Yuuri gasped, eyes wide and concerned, “Are you okay? Is something hurt?” Yuri just shook his head, grumbling, but still looking victorious despite his recent attempt at flight.</p><p>Yuuri watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and exit the gym, grinning as widely as he would if he’d just completed a clean program. He shook his head slightly, a fond, exasperated smile on his lips as he watched the teen go.</p><p>***</p><p>They were walking into the apartment Yuuri shared with Victor when the next trial occurred. Yuri, figuring that their competition should be more well-rounded than one based purely on athleticism, had decided to compare their aptitudes as pet owners. The test was quite simple: whichever pet gave the best reaction when its owner walked through the door won, and their owner, too, by extension. </p><p>Yuri knew he would win this one-- Potya may be a sassy, little queen but she could be counted upon to run up to him and claw her way up onto his shoulder the second he stepped through the door: this would be a piece of cake.</p><p>“Do you have the good pork?” Yuri asked as they approached the apartment door. “Lilia finally agreed that since I’m growing, I’m allowed to have Katsudon-- I’m not wasting the experience with that healthy, vegan shit.”</p><p>Yuuri snorted, “Yeah, it’s in the fridge. You can even inspect it to make sure you get the best cuts.”</p><p>Yuri nodded approvingly, grinning at the idea of the calorie-laden, Japanese dish in his near future. He was so intent upon this vision that he almost forgot about the challenge and jumped slightly when Makkachin bounded around the corner of the hallway, jumping on Yuuri and knocking him back through the still-open door, all the while licking his face eagerly.</p><p>Yuuri laughed as the slobbery, pink tongue attacked his face, and gave the dog a few seconds of frenzied joy before pushing him gently off so he could get up. Yuri scowled.</p><p>Later that night, warm and full and with the left-overs in a Tupperware container Yuri planned on hiding from Lilia, Yuri returned to the apartment he shared with her, unlocking the door with a grin. The smell of pork would surely attract Potya, he thought, and pushed open the door.</p><p>He waited. </p><p>And waited. </p><p>And eventually shut the door to wait longer. </p><p>Potya made no appearance.</p><p>***</p><p>“It wasn’t fair!” Yuri grumbled through his laptop screen later that night. “How was I supposed to know that Lilia had Potya trapped in her room? It was fucking rigged!”</p><p>Otabek laughed, his voice tinny through Yuri’s shitty speakers. “I don’t know what you expected,” he said, his lip quirked in a way Yuri knew was the equivalent of a broad smile for the other man, “Yuuri was bound to win that one. Dogs always go crazy when their owners get home but cats just kinda stare at you.”</p><p>Yuri huffed, glaring at the end of the bed where Potya was curled up in a ball of fluffy, cream fur. She stared back at him reproachfully, as though scolding him for trying to involve her in such trivial matters.</p><p>“Whatever,” Yuri grumbled, “I’ll cream him in the next challenge.”</p><p>***</p><p>“Want to go to the mall with me?” </p><p>The question came as a surprise. Yuri was blatantly requesting his company? <i>Again? </i></p><p>“Sure!” Yuri raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Huh, too eager then. Trying to play it off, Yuuri added, “Why?”</p><p>Yuri shrugged, “Potya needs a leash and there’s a leopard print one I like at that weird designer pet store Victor took me to.”</p><p>“A leash? You walk your cat?” Yuri shot him a look that seemed to say, ‘duh’ and Yuuri shook his head; really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. “After practice?”</p><p>Yuri nodded, “Yeah. You didn’t come in Victor’s stupid, pink convertible, did you? Because I refuse to be seen looking like flamingo shit.”</p><p>Yuuri laughed, “No, don’t worry. I had to drop Makka off at his playdate earlier so I came separately.”</p><p>Yuri would roll his eyes at Makkachin’s ‘playdate’ (they were fucking <i>dogs,</i> why on earth would they have a <i>playdate?)</i> but he’d been over the subject so many times he didn’t care enough anymore. He rolled his eyes anyway.</p><p>***</p><p>“No,” Yuri said, pushing away the face mask Yuuri had just tried to put on. “We’re not doing those today.”</p><p>Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Why not?” Normally Yuri was all about disguises and hiding who he was out in public -- everywhere he went he got mobbed by fans, after all -- so this change in behavior was strange.</p><p>Yuri shrugged. “Just don’t feel like it.”</p><p>“You’ll have to deal with people,” Yuuri warned and Yuri grinned slightly, surprising him.</p><p>“Oh, I’m planning on it.”</p><p>True to his prediction, they got about ten feet into the mall before they were spotted, a small girl with huge eyes talking excitedly behind her hands to her friend before shyly approaching them.<br/>
“Excuse me?” She said, staring into Yuuri’s face in awe, “I’m a huge fan-- is there any way I could get an autograph?”</p><p>Yuuri smiled, “Of course,” he said, and dutifully signed the girl’s phone case before taking a picture with her as she squealed her thanks. “I told you this would happen,” Yuuri said, noticing Yuri’s sour expression once the girl had gone. “People were bound to notice us.”</p><p>“Notice <i> you,”</i> Yuri grumbled but Yuuri couldn’t ask him to explain before an almighty shriek sounded from behind them and they both jumped.</p><p><i>“IT’S YURI PLISETSKY!!!!”</i> A young teenage girl wearing white cat ears and a pink, frilly shirt with <i>‘I ♥ the Russian Fairy’</i> on it, stood there, staring at them, and, all around them, chaos erupted.</p><p>They were mobbed, enough that the mall’s security came to stand beside them as Yuri was swarmed with fans all shoving items and cellphones at him. A few of Yuuri’s own came as well, but mostly the pandemonium was caused by Yuri’s cult-like followers, and Yuuri’s several, more subdued, admirers didn’t stand a chance.</p><p>Watching Yuri carefully, braced to defuse an explosion, Yuuri was surprised when the teen exhibited what had to be a herculean amount of self-control and pasted on a smile, signing the items thrust at him and posing for pictures for what most certainly <i>would</i> have been hours had the security guard not ushered the crowd away.</p><p>Even more strangely, when the throng had finally abated and Yuuri finally had an unobstructed view of the blond’s face, he saw a victorious, entirely real smile plastered onto it.</p><p>“Eat it, Katsudon!” Yuri sneered, “I won by a landslide!”</p><p>Yuuri was <i>So Confused.</i> </p><p>“Won?” He asked, and Yuri just cackled, pulling him out of the mall and back to the car. “Wait--,” Yuuri said, “you didn’t get your leash.”</p><p>“Who said I needed a leash?” Yuri smirked and howled again with laughter at Yuuri’s absolutely lost expression.</p><p>***</p><p>“Yuri, are you… doing something?” Yuuri asked the next day at practice.</p><p>Yuri didn’t even look up from his phone. “Texting, duh.”</p><p>“No,” Yuuri said, shaking his head, “I mean, are you… trying to win something?”</p><p>“Finally figured it out, huh?” Yuri scoffed, still not looking up, “I thought it’d take you longer-- Beka was right.”</p><p>Yuuri felt entirely bewildered. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Our rivalry, obviously,” Yuri shrugged, “the media won’t shut up about it so I figured we might as well find out who’s better to get them off our backs.” </p><p>Yuuri nodded slowly, “Okay,” he said, “I think I understand. So the mall was to see how many fans found us?” Yuri nodded, “And the treadmill--”</p><p>“Endurance.” Yuri supplied before he smiled at his phone screen, typing something back in reply.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuuri asked. Surely, this wasn’t a fair competition if Yuuri hadn’t known he was even competing!</p><p>“Didn’t feel like it,” Yuri answered, unphased, though a small blush started creeping into his cheeks. Yuuri wondered vaguely what Otabek had said to elicit that reaction. “I’m winning anyway.”</p><p>Rolling his eyes at the teen’s antics, Yuuri shook his head good-naturedly. “Well, what’s the next challenge?” He asked, and finally succeeded in drawing Yuri’s attention away from his phone.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What’s the next competition?” Yuuri restated and Yuri blinked.</p><p>“You mean, you’re actually going to do it?” Yuri looked surprised,</p><p>“Of course,” Yuuri said, smiling at the look of excitement that washed over his younger friend’s face. “So, what’s next?”</p><p>Yuri grinned. “Weight lifting.”</p><p>***</p><p>They met in the small gym at the rink after their ice time was over, walking over to the dumbbells. </p><p>“Okay, so whoever can lift more wins?” Yuuri asked and Yuri nodded.</p><p>They each took turns, slowly building up the weight until they reached twenty-five pounds. </p><p>Gritting his teeth, Yuri took one weight in each hand, bent over at a right angle, and slowly started to lift them. Yuuri was fairly sure that this was absolutely <i>not</i> the right way to go about lifting weights, but didn’t know the correct way, so let it go. </p><p>Yuri’s face was turning red as he managed to get to a standing position and had started trying to do a bicep curl before, “Fucker!” He dropped the weights back onto the mat, massaging his arms. “Why is that so heavy?!”</p><p>Yuuri made sure he was okay (he was, idiot Katsudon) before he took his turn. </p><p>As he brought up the twenty-five pounds in each hand he could see why Yuri had dropped them. This was fucking <i>hard.</i> He managed to get them slightly higher than Yuri had, before he, too, dropped them onto the mat, panting and sweating. </p><p>They made eye contact in the mirror before pointedly looking away again.</p><p>“Never speak of this and call it a draw?” Yuri asked and Yuuri nodded.</p><p>“Yup, sounds good.” </p><p>No one needed to know.</p><p>***</p><p>The second to last task, Yuri thought, was one he was bound to win. They were on the ice, going through a normal day at practice, but had to see who could handle their coaches’ criticism better.</p><p>With the Grand Prix Finals around the corner and the stakes high for the Olympics, both Yakov and Victor were being tougher on their skaters than ever before, demanding perfection and being less than forgiving when it didn’t appear. For this reason, several screaming matches had erupted on the ice (Yuri) and many tears and apologies had been shed in deference to the god who had taken him under his wing (Yuuri). </p><p>This challenge was to see who could take criticism better. Yuri wasn’t allowed to yell and Yuuri wasn’t allowed to apologize. Yuri knew he’d win: he’d seen Katsudon walk into a parking meter and apologize reflexively-- this would be a piece of cake.</p><p>“Yuri, what the hell is that Camel spin? It’s not a broken leg, dammit!”</p><p>“Yuuri, what happened to your quad Flip? You could do it fine all last year-- snap out of it!”</p><p>“Yuri, you call that a triple Toe Loop, it was a cheated double! At best!”</p><p>“Yuuri, that step sequence was abysmal! Do it right this time!”</p><p>“Yuri, where is your axis on that jump? You’re bent in half like your spine is made of--”</p><p>“My axis,” Yuri roared, breaking, “is 8 fucking centimeters down! I’m growing, you bastard, <i>I have no axis!”</i> And then, realizing, <i>“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!”</i></p><p>***</p><p>It was the day before the final challenge-- the deciding vote, and Yuri was worried. Nevermind that it was the Grand Prix Final, a deciding factor for the Olympic Teams, but he was a point behind Katsudon, at 3/2. He <i>needed</i> to win this challenge.</p><p>The final task was probably the worst, coming down to the actual component scores for the free skate. Whoever got a higher artistic score would win, while the lower would lose the entire Battle of the Yuris. </p><p>Initially, Yuuri had been opposed to making the actual competition a challenge-- Yuri was growing and it just wouldn't be fair. Yuri agreed on that front, but, since his technical score had gone to shit anyway, he had been focusing on getting as many artistic points as possible, hoping to claw his way up onto the podium even if his body was trying to fuck him over every step of the way. </p><p>Both of the Yuris’ programs had been choreographed by Victor, and, while Katsudon had a reputation for artistry, Yuri had been killing himself to make these programs the best he’d ever performed and thought that he could win. Or, at least, he <i>had</i> thought that before when assigning the task. Now, with it staring him in the face, he was seriously starting to question himself.</p><p>“You’ll do fine, Yura.”</p><p>“No,” Yuri snapped, pacing, “Katsudon scored two points above me in the short and he looked really confident today!”</p><p>“Well, maybe he’ll have an anxiety attack five minutes before he skates.” Otabek should’ve known that any attempt at levity would be lost on Yuri today and the blond’s response proved it.</p><p>“Here’s to hoping,” Yuri muttered darkly and Otabek rolled his eyes, getting up and stopping his friend’s pacing by grabbing him by the shoulders.</p><p>“Calm down,” Otabek murmured, brushing a flyaway hair off of Yuri’s forehead. “Katsuki’s not going to have an anxiety attack and you’re going to go out there and beat him anyway.”</p><p>“How about I just pull a Tonya Harding instead?” Yuri suggested desperately, chewing his lip.</p><p>“Yuri, no.”</p><p>“I don’t have a retractable baton, but I do have a skate blade.” His tone was contemplative. Otabek was concerned.</p><p>“Yuri, <i>no.”</i></p><p>“But it’s the only way I can win!”</p><p> “You’ll get kicked out of the ISU.” Otabek warned but Yuri just shrugged.</p><p>“I can just be a boxer.”</p><p>“You’d kill someone.”</p><p>“Who cares? it happens all of the time!”</p><p>“. . . Yura.” He really, <i>really</i> hoped he was joking</p><p>“Okay, fine, whatever,” Yuri groaned, dropping down into his seat in the warm-up area. It was only him and Otabek there-- Yuuri had just left with Victor to wait by the ice for his slot. “I’ll just fail and prove to everyone that I suck, it’s fine.”</p><p>Otabek sighed, “Yura,” he said, putting a hand on Yuri’s cheek to force him to look him in the eye. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Even if you don’t outscore him, you’re not any less of a skater. It’s stupid that you two are competing anyway-- you’re different people and the media just wants a gimmick. There’s no truth in it.”</p><p>Yuri shrugged disconsolately, “I guess,” he murmured.</p><p>“I <i>know,”</i> Otabek replied, and that managed to pull a small smile out of Yuri. “Go do your best out there and he’ll be put to shame.”</p><p>Yuri looked up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re the best, Beka,” he murmured as an official stuck their head through the door of the warm-up room.</p><p>“Two minutes,” he said, “you’d better get out there.”</p><p>Yuri nodded, and, determined, turned back to Otabek.</p><p>A smile and a ‘davai’ later, Yuri took to the ice, sureness pumping through his veins and a victorious smile already on his lips.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <i>96.42</i>
</p><p>Yuri scored <i>96.42</i> as an artistic component score for the free program.</p><p>It would have been a world record. It <i>would</i> have been a world record, but--</p><p>But <i>96.43.</i> But Katsudon had scored <i>one-tenth of a point</i> higher than Yuri, and he won, not only the competition, but The Battle of the Yuris, too.</p><p>The irony was not lost on Yuri as he sat in the kiss and cry, pasting on a smile for the fans. This is what he had done to Katsudon at the 2016 Grand Prix Finals: it had been a tenth of a point then, too.<br/>
Yuri waited until the award ceremony was over (he watched from the sidelines-- he was in fourth due to his ridiculously low technical score), watching with seemingly good sportsmanship as Katsudon waved from the middle of the podium, Otabek standing at his side with a gleaming, silver around his neck.</p><p>Yuri was happy for them -- especially Otabek, God he’d deserved that medal -- but he still felt disappointment curling inside of him. He’d never expected to medal -- he was growing, it just wasn’t feasible -- but he’d thought that he’d at least <i>tie</i> with Katsudon for the Yuuri contest.</p><p>Awards over, Yuri slipped back through the curtains to the locker room, removing his makeup finally and swiping his face with a wipe. Just finished removing the makeup from one eye, Yuri looked up as the door to the locker room swung open, Otabek stepping inside.</p><p>“Beka!” Yuri smiled, turning to face him, “Congratulations! You were great!” </p><p>Otabek smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Thanks, Yura,” he said, coming over to sit beside him on the bench. “I’m sorry about The Battle of the Yuris; you were so close.”</p><p>Yuri shrugged slightly, “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, his voice smaller than he'd expected it to be. “We know who’s better now, though. I guess it really isn’t such a surprise when you think about it.”</p><p>Otabek frowned, “Yura,”</p><p>Yuri just shook his head. “It’s fine, Beka, really. It was just a stupid competition.”</p><p>Otabek studied him for a moment, before, as Yuri raised his head--</p><p>“Mmphh--” Yuri let out a surprised, little grunt as Otabek dived, startling slightly but making no move to break away. If he had been expecting any reaction from Otabek, a kiss certainly wouldn’t have been on his list, but, here they were, and Yuri was <i>definitely</i> happy with this response.</p><p>When the broke apart, it was with slightly labored breaths, a stupid, dopey grin on Yuri’s face. “What were we talking about?"</p><p>***</p><p>That night at dinner, neither Yuri mentioned the results of their competition, though Katsudon did exchange a soft, knowing smile with his fiance when Otabek and Yuri held hands under the table the entire time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can I just say that I love how I go from using the metric system to using the customary one (US) without a care in the world? XD</p><p>Anywho, if you liked it comments and kudos would be much appreciated! ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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